Ode to Joy: Prelude
by Oni Senpai
Summary: Being a big fan of Transformers I have to write a fanfic and because the cast list for Transformers is a bit small and being the dedicated fan I am, I felt the need to jam another giant transforming robot into the mix. This short story introduces him...


With a hiss of hydraulics the bulkhead sprang open and stark white illumination poured into the Autobot tomb ship. Slowly a long shadow split the pool of light that was thrown across the floor. A towering metallic being sauntered forward and paused briefly in the centre of the vast chamber. He cast about in a disinterested manner, taking in the monuments and insignia meant to commemorate the heroes that given everything to their chosen cause in the Cybertronian wars.

More interesting to the metal behemoth was the door straight ahead. It was emblazoned with the Autobot crest and stood many times taller than the Transformer. Making his way to a panel set into the wall it slowly raised an arm. The hand retracted into the forearm to be replaced by a writhing mass of electrodes and probes. Pulling back the panel's casing with his other hand it took but a moment's work to break the security systems. The Transformer stood back to watch as, with a ponderous movement that shook the entire ship, the huge doors began to slide apart.

"Ah…" he sighed, the voice filled with strange harmonics. Reaching up he turned a dial on his chest plate and shuddered with each ratchet of the gearing. Cocking his head he swaggered into the Autobot crypt.

There was row upon row vaults, each containing the deactivated remains of an Autobot soldier. Reaching out, the Transformer ran his hand across many of the plaques that named the contents of each coffin, sending dust swirling in the thin atmosphere. Its red view plate though was fixed upon a raised dais at the end of the sepulchre, upon which was a single large sarcophagus.

The Transformer's gait lacked a certain reverence as he sprang up the platform's steps and there was an exited twitch to his movements as he rested his hands either side of the name plate.

"Prime…" he whispered, again the rasping harmonics echoed slightly in the ship.

With a fluid movement it knocked aside the heavy lid and stood over the open coffin. It was empty. One hand clenched into a fist as the other crept towards the chest dial, though stopped short of turning it. The Transformer instead whirled around and faced the other Autobot vaults, descending the steps as he muttered to himself.

"Oh well…"

* * *

Static slowly resolved into definite shapes as Wheeljack awakened. His last memories were hazy and jumbled. They were all of fire and damage, the slow decent into deactivation amidst the ruins of the Autobot City barricades on Earth. He had thought in those last moments that for him the Cybertronian wars were over forever, that he would be one with the matrix. Yet here he was. Alive again.

He quickly began focussing on his surroundings. It was a long low room, dimly lit and strewn with debris. Wheeljack recognised a workshop when he saw one, though he was less sure of the owner. The Transformer that was in front of him was working at a terminal, paying him no attention. The single red view plate, the pointed crest, the expressionless mouthpiece… it was all too familiar.

"Soundwave!" rasped Wheeljack, activating speech drivers that had not been used in some time. He tried to rise, but saw thick metal bands holding him in place. Various panels were missing from his body, and cables trailed across the floor to link him to the computer terminal.

"Ah…" he grunted in defeat.

The other Transformer swivelled its head to look at Wheeljack and it cackled, an awful grating sound. It stood up from where it was hunched in front of the glowing screen and approached the immobilised Autobot.

"Not Soundwave, I'm afraid. From your point of view, my batch kin would have been the soft option, but you'll have to make do with me!" Its voice shifted in pitch in an unsettling way. Now that the Autobot looked closer he saw that, although this robot sounded like the Decepticon lieutenant, it certainly wasn't his old adversary. For one thing this transformer's plating was a dark green, and there were small elements to his design that were subtly different. The resemblance though was uncanny.

"You are obviously disorientated," the green Transformer continued, "though that is only to be expected. You've been dead for quite some time. I am Microwave. And you, I am led to believe, are…" The robot turned away to peer once again at the terminal, "Wheeljack. But I believe you know that." He began to make some adjustments to the terminal's controls. Without turning around Microwave continued his monologue.

"I'll be _brutally_ honest… modesty has never been one of my assets. I make no secret of the fact I am a brilliant scientist. I have brought you back from the void of deactivation. For this… you should be very grateful and…" Microwave looked pointedly over his shoulder, his voice becoming considerably lower in pitch, "not a little concerned."

As the robot rambled on, Wheeljack decided that this Microwave in fact sounded different to Soundwave too. There were different, more discordant, harmonics to his voice, and whereas Soundwave had a steady meter to his voice, the tempo of Microwave's fluctuated worryingly.

"So. Are you a Decepticon as well?" asked Wheeljack, hoping that information might help him get out of the situation in one piece.

"Oh no. Only a few of my batch kin found their calling in the two warring factions of the Cybertronian Wars."

"There were a whole batch of you?"

"Yes… There are many of us, all created from the same core specifications. I believe there were one or two amongst the Autobots. That's the reason you are here, I might add."

"You seem very different to Soundwave," said Wheeljack, still trying to keep his captor talking.

"Soundwave was always too uptight for his own good. He's got some of my traits though. In the early days of our functioning, when my skills were just coming into their own, he used to listen to my work. The 'Exquisite Noise' he used to call it. I preferred the more descriptive 'screaming', but that's Soundwave for you. I'm hoping to catch up with my old playmate later, reintroduce myself…"

Wheeljack had little time to dwell on this as, behind Microwave, Wheeljack saw further all too familiar shapes.

"By Alpha Sigma! What have you done to them?"

Microwave turned lazily to the pile of partially dismantled Autobots at the far end of the workshop. Some of them were still twitching.

"I have used them and discarded them as is my wont," explained Microwave, turning back to Wheeljack, watching his reaction closely. The Autobot stared at the torn plating, the shattered chassis. He could make out Ironhide's inanimate features, blue optics trailing onto the floor, coolant seeping from his gaping mouth.

"You're totally insane!" roared Wheeljack struggling against the restraints once again. However, whether through deactivation or Microwave's ministrations, we felt incredibly weak.

"So kind of you to notice. I made many of the modifications to my neural core myself." Microwave leaned in close to Wheeljack as he whispered, "some of the work was just _agony_…"

Stepping back he twisted the dial on his chest and shuddered in euphoric reverie. Wheeljack looked on in horrified silence as Microwave continued.

"You see…" as he spoke he unwound a length of cable that ran from a port on his side. "I have been blessed with the most divine of gifts…"

"Madness…?" asked Wheeljack.

"Perversity…" corrected Microwave, his head twitching sideways as he purred the word. Then, reaching into Wheeljack's exposed chest cavity, Microwave linked the cable to a neural relay.

"You've linked yourself to my primary awareness outputs?" Wheeljack's question was rhetorical. His internal monitoring algorithms were alarmed by the intrusion.

"I didn't realise you were an engineer as well. You're quite right of course. I like to know what my subjects are going through first hand. Some find it very hard to articulate their sensations to me in a coherent and sensible manner."

"You're… you're…" words failed Wheeljack.

"You think this is bad? You should meet Heatwave. He used to be a killjoy too, just like Soundwave, but I worked my magic on him. In fact… now he's so bent he makes me look positively wholesome."

"By Primus!" said Wheeljack, shaking his head. "What are you?"

"I've told you… a scientist," replied Microwave and began to wave his hands theatrically.

"Megatron travelled the length and breadth of the galaxy in search of power. I found it much closer to home. I say you haven't experienced power until you've had someone strapped to the workbench…." Microwave leaned forward again, bracing his hands on either side of the bench Wheeljack was strapped to. Their faces were very close as he said, "…and you haven't experienced pleasure until you have actually _been_ strapped to the workbench yourself."

With a flourish Microwave once again turned the dial on his chestplate, and a rasping sigh escaped from deep within his chassis. There was a terrible foreboding creeping over Wheeljack, mixed with a feeling of helplessness.

"Now," said Microwave, very gravely. "You've asked me many questions. I like to talk and I have answered them. I now want to ask _you_ some questions. Your fellow Autobots have given me some useful information," Wheeljack's gaze shifted to his ruined comrades as Microwave went on speaking, "but there are still gaps I need filled. I need you to tell me all about the Autobots and then I have a little job for you."

"Forget it Decepti-scum!" spat Wheeljack, resuming his struggle against the metal bands that held him down.

"How wonderfully idiomatic!" Microwave said, obviously amused, though his tone suddenly became menacing as he said, "and predictable. However I think you'll answer these questions," he picked up a brutal probe from his workbench and began to toy with it very close to Wheeljack's optics. "For instance… does _this HURT_?"

* * *

_Tell him. Let him know… I'm coming…

* * *

_

In another sector of the galaxy, aboard the Decepticon flagship, Soundwave looked up from his work. His sophisticated audio sensors scanned every bandwidth and electromagnetic spectrum that existed and although he could detect nothing he still turned to look over his shoulder. Behind him the chamber was dark and empty. He was very still for a moment and then turned back to his work.


End file.
